When the matter reached the Twelfth Prince, it couldn’t be kept small anymore. He arrived shortly after, and upon entering, he saw Mu Xiaoshu crying with swollen eyes, clutching the dead birds and refusing to let go. He frowned and said, “Sha Tong mentioned going out to buy birds. What do you think? Just looking won’t solve anything, so make a decision.”

“My mind is in chaos right now. What decision can I make?” She found a tall broken jar, placed the birds inside, and while sobbing said, “Whatever happens, let’s first give them a proper burial.”

Hong Ce took the jar from her. “We can’t bury them yet. The cause of death is unclear, and if we bury them, there will be no evidence. What did you feed them? What food and water did you give them?”

Ding Yi stood motionless and said, “This morning, the Seventh Prince fed them chicken pieces and fermented soybeans. At noon, I gave them soft food, but they didn’t want to eat. Later, I added water to their water container, but they didn’t touch it either. By evening, they were gone—they just fell over and died.”

Who had a grudge against him and was determined to harm him? This didn’t even need to be asked. It must be related to the conflict at the Yanzi River post station. Those guards with their narrow minds and unscrupulous methods—was there no law? He placed the jar on the table and said, “This matter needs thorough investigation. Don’t hide anything from the Seventh Prince; tell him everything when he returns. These birds died under suspicious circumstances, and covering it up would only benefit those people. Poisoning in the imperial garden—such intentions are punishable by death. We can’t let this go. Keep the birds for now; whether they need to be examined or buried will be up to the Seventh Prince to decide.”

He treated this like a case to be solved, and Ding Yi naturally had no objections. They could openly confront people, but the poor birds couldn’t speak and had died so unjustly.

She sat down, wiping her tears. “I never expected this to happen. The birds were fine, and now they’re ruined.” Thinking of the Seventh Prince’s face, her heart began to pound. “I’m afraid I can’t explain this to my master. You once asked me what would happen if something went wrong with the birds. I was stubborn then, always thinking such a mishap wouldn’t occur. Who knew that before we even reached Ningguta, the two little lives would be lost? It was my negligence. I should have watched them every moment. Now it’s too late for regrets.”

Hong Ce said, “Self-blame is useless. No one keeps birds clutched to their bosom at all times—even tigers have moments when they doze. If someone is determined to harm you, there’s no escaping it. Think about what happened today, who you met, and how long you were away from the birdcage.”

She knew exactly what had happened. “After leaving Wende Hall, I entered the garden and hung the cage on a branch so they could enjoy the sunshine. Then I went to the golden well to fetch water. Halfway there, I met Liao Datou, and we chatted briefly… I know this has something to do with them, but without evidence, I can’t make accusations carelessly.”

Hong Ce snorted, “Such cunning servants, growing bolder by the day. If we don’t discipline them this time, next time they might poison people.” Looking over again, he saw her staring at the birds in the tea caddy with a mournful expression. After contemplating for a moment, he said, “Sha Tong’s suggestion makes sense. We need to buy birds, not to deceive, but to ease the Seventh Prince’s mind. I asked Wei Kaitai earlier; there’s a bird market in Shengjing that stays open at night. You know how to judge birds, so go pick two good ones. That way, you’ll have something to account for with the Seventh Prince.”

Bird enthusiasts know that birds are valuable—a high-quality specimen costs at least several hundred taels of silver, truly making these creatures more precious than humans. She felt her pocket, where she had saved ten taels from frugal living, intended for establishing a place to stay after reuniting with her brother. Even if she spent it all, it wouldn’t be enough. With a reddened face, she held out her purse, stammering, “This is all I have, just small savings from here and there. If I need to compensate the Seventh Prince for the birds, I’m afraid I can only buy ordinary ones.”

He smiled and pushed her hand back. “Keep it for snacks. Such a small amount won’t help much.”

The Twelfth Prince turned and left, his robe fluttering in the sunset like a divine being. Before, she owed him gratitude; now, she owed him money. The debt kept accumulating—eventually, she might have to repay it with her life. Feeling dejected as she pondered this, she hurriedly followed after him.

Normally, leaving the temporary palace would have been a joyous occasion. Ding Yi, with her lively nature, enjoyed exploring new places to broaden her horizons. But this time, she had suffered a great blow and lost all enthusiasm—first grieving for the two birds, and second, worrying about facing the Seventh Prince. Holding the reins, she followed behind the Twelfth Prince with her head hanging low and a face as long as eight zhang.

Hong Ce looked back and saw her melancholy appearance, which seemed unusually heavy. He said, “Leave everything to me, don’t worry. The Seventh Prince doesn’t remain attached to possessions for long. Last time we compensated him for a Shaanxi dog, and he quickly forgot about that slippery creature. This time, as long as we buy good birds, I’m not worried he won’t like them.”

She frowned, and the faint light from the horizon cast shadows of her thick eyelashes on her cheeks. Hearing his words, she still didn’t feel much relief and murmured, “I hope you’re right. I just feel like I keep making trouble, one time after another. I’m even annoyed with myself. When Sha Tong reported to you, what did you think? Did you sigh deeply and wonder, ‘Why is it her again?’ You see, if you felt that way, the Seventh Prince would certainly be angry.”

Hong Ce considered this seriously. When Sha Tong had entered, what had he thought? He truly hadn’t felt like trouble was at his door again; rather, he had felt relieved. Having decided to distance himself, this incident provided an unavoidable excuse. He had always thought himself a person of unwavering principles, but only now did he understand that wasn’t entirely true. Maintaining a detached stance was easy with people who didn’t matter. Once there were more interactions and personal feelings became involved, it was no longer possible to remain so resolute.

He said he hadn’t thought that way. “I never thought like that. Perhaps at first, but not later. It began to feel like my own affair—probably out of habit. Calm waters would be strange.”

A warm smile played on his lips. Ding Yi stared a bit dazedly, then quickly averted her gaze and stammered, “When you say that, I feel even more shameless. I always look to you to cover for me when things go wrong, and I’ve never repaid you once. Thinking about it makes me embarrassed.”

“I’m not doing anything else anyway. I wouldn’t have left the temporary palace tonight if not for you. At this point, being upset won’t help—try to stay cheerful. The culprit won’t escape. Let him have some peace for now; we’ll deal with him later.” As he spoke, he pointed forward with his riding crop. “On East Shuncheng Inner Street, there’s a Dragon King Temple with a row of shops beside it, similar to Beijing’s Liuli Factory. When I was young and came to Shengjing for ancestral worship, I once went there to trade cricket containers. It’s not as big as Liuli Factory, but it has everything. The bird market is probably new; I haven’t been there and don’t know what it’s like, but I’ve heard it’s substantial with many varieties.”

Ding Yi looked ahead from her stirrups. Buildings rose one after another in the sunset. Shengjing and Beijing weren’t particularly close, but because the Xibo tribe had once flourished here, deep traces remained. For instance, the shops and signboards, with their assembled panels and blue backgrounds with white characters, made it almost impossible to distinguish where one was while walking on the yellow earth streets.

The Dragon King Temple was an ancient site for praying for rain, and a broad Imperial Street remained in front. Passing through it led to the market street. As night fell, the shops lit their lamps. Several tavern boys used poles to hang lanterns under the eaves, with iron hooks on bamboo branches, hanging them quite smoothly.

As they trotted past on horseback, the lanterns lit up one by one. When they reached the bird market archway, Hong Ce dismounted and tossed the reins, which a eunuch deftly caught and quietly led the horse aside.

The saying goes that “insects and birds are inseparable,” which was particularly evident at the bird market. Those who kept birds also kept insects—crickets and field crickets were serious hobbies, with people bringing them home and treating them like masters. Another category depended on birds for livelihood, such as grasshoppers and spiders, which served as live food—meals for the birds.

The establishment they entered had the largest storefront in the entire bird market and the most complete variety of species—thrushes, red-billed leiothrix, crossbills, shrikes, all were available. When Ding Yi saw the living birds in cages, her spirits immediately lifted. Their melodious songs seemed like magical medicine, instantly healing her wounded heart.

The shopkeeper was a middle-aged, rotund man with a belly that required a belt of over three chi and two cun. With a face full of smiles, he came forward, bowing deeply and warmly greeting Hong Ce. “Oh, my lord, you’ve arrived! Please come in! What birds are you looking for today? Your timing is perfect—we just received a new batch of parrots and yellow hawks.”

Hong Ce had no expertise in birds and turned to look at Xiaoshu. “Choose whatever you like; they don’t have to be the same as before.”

“Let’s first look for ones like the originals. I’m afraid the Seventh Prince will miss them, and getting similar ones might help compensate.” She turned to chat with the shopkeeper. “Excuse me, do you have any red-billed leiothrix or larks with good voices?”

Seeing that this guard knew his business, the shopkeeper smiled and began to boast: “Not just good voices! Yellow birds with ‘seven-character explosions,’ red-billed leiothrix with ‘tune-by-tune singing,’ thrushes that ‘imitate children’s instruments’… we have whatever you need. Do you want red-billed leiothrix and thrushes? Look over here…” He led them to the songbird section and pointed out, “Our birds are the most complete on this street. The traps are easy to use, and we only display good birds. You’re an expert, so you know that thirteen-skill birds are the finest. This lark can imitate reed songbirds, magpies, roosters crowing, hens laying eggs, shrike mating calls… all kinds of skills. Buy it and take it home, and I guarantee you won’t regret it—it’ll even bring you prestige.”

Merchants rely on their words—they exaggerate fantastically to bamboozle people into making a deal. A bird with thirteen skills would certainly be expensive. In Beijing, he had heard that Duke Keqin had paid three hundred taels for a quail. If a lark had special talents, the price would be extraordinary.

Ding Yi felt somewhat hesitant and stopped focusing on the lark, turning instead to look at the parrots. Hong Ce watched from the side, knowing she was intimidated by the price, and asked the shopkeeper, “How much?”

The shopkeeper, seeing they were out-of-towners and potential targets for overcharging, held out one hand and declared, “Five hundred taels without a penny of profit for you, sir. Such a fine bird—the care put into raising it was considerable. Look carefully at the plumage and claws, aren’t they beautiful!”

Ding Yi heard this and turned back. “Five hundred taels could buy a Haodongqing falcon. Your price is excessive—too much is as bad as not enough, you know. With such a high price, who would dare to haggle with you?” She bowed slightly to Hong Ce and said, “Twelfth Prince, there are many shops along the street; we don’t have to buy here. We have plenty of time to look around shop by shop. Even if the birds are good, we should compare prices, don’t you think?”

He winked, and Hong Ce understood. This was a bargaining tactic—first pushing the price down to make the later negotiation easier.

As for the shopkeeper, hearing this made him nervous, not because they might go elsewhere, but because of the formal title of address and the eunuchs holding their horses outside. Who would have so many children that they’d number up to twelve? This must be someone from a royal family or a great house—someone he couldn’t afford to offend. He hurriedly bowed lower, “The price is negotiable. I quote, you counter-offer—that’s the natural way. Look at this red-billed leiothrix, a genuine specimen from General’s Tomb in Xingtai. Anyone who keeps skylarks or yellowhammers needs a red-billed leiothrix as a teacher. This bird has an excellent voice—when it calls, it can make water drip.”

Hong Ce was impatient with his babbling and said directly, “Don’t inflate the price, but I won’t let you lose money either. Give me a price for both birds together.”

The shopkeeper pursed his lips, thinking. “Alright, seven hundred taels for both, and I’m not playing any games with you.”

Ding Yi saw the Twelfth Prince about to nod and quickly interjected, “No, our final offer is five hundred taels, not a coin more. And not just that—the bird cages must be changed. The red-billed leiothrix needs a gold-star black wood perch cage, and the lark needs a silver-capped cage. You decide—if you can agree, we’ll take them. If it makes you lose money, we won’t force you.”

Hong Ce looked at her and couldn’t help but smile. She was a capable person who hadn’t spent time in the marketplace for nothing—she even knew how to haggle. Born into the imperial family, he had never concerned himself with his estates and properties after establishing his household, leaving everything to his servants. Although the family rules were strict, servants skimming profits was unavoidable in any prince’s household, and he didn’t care much about it. Now, for these two birds, let alone seven hundred taels, he was prepared to pay a thousand if they looked good. But with Xiaoshu handling it this way, he had nothing more to say and left everything in her hands.

The shopkeeper struggled for a while. If he didn’t sell, there was profit to be made; if he did sell, the profit was less than he had estimated, making it difficult to decide.

Ding Yi smiled and said, “Don’t bother calculating. When I was young, I caught birds with people. Go back a generation—ten of these birds’ parents wouldn’t be worth one tael of silver. Raising birds yields tremendous profits. You put in some effort and sell them for two hundred and fifty taels each—that’s not unfair.”

The shopkeeper thought about it and agreed. “It’s night business, and I won’t be stubborn. Let’s consider it making a friend. If it were the morning market, I wouldn’t sell for less than seven hundred taels, not even a penny less.”

With that, the deal was concluded. Ding Yi happily went to select the birds. For the lark, she chose one with red legs, a large bill, and clear markings on its wings. For the red-billed leiothrix, she picked one with a big head, thick tail, white legs, and glossy black crown feathers. There was a rhyme for selecting mature birds: “Look at its whole body from afar, observe legs and head up close, poke it when near to see if it moves.” What did this mean? Besides appearance, one had to consider temperament—bold birds were steady, timid ones harder to train. Finally, she held each bird in her hand to test their strength. Neither was undernourished, so the selection was complete.

Watching her scrutinize so carefully, the shopkeeper lamented, “Had I known you could choose so well, I wouldn’t have sold them even if you killed me!”

Ding Yi turned back with a smile. “We’ve already agreed, and there’s no going back.” With two cages in hand, the Twelfth Prince finally took out banknotes from his sleeve pocket. With the exchange of money and goods complete, they left.

Originally, they had planned to select similar-looking birds to quietly replace the dead ones, but upon closer inspection, each bird looked different. All along the way, Ding Yi discussed bird lore with the Twelfth Prince. Finally, when they came to the matter of money, she felt especially guilty. “Another five hundred taels from you—even if I sold myself, I couldn’t fill the hole. This time I owe you greatly. Between this and that fine dog last time, a lifetime of service wouldn’t be enough to repay you.”

He just smiled without speaking. Afraid he hadn’t heard, Ding Yi urged her horse forward, tapping his arm with her finger. “Twelfth Prince?”

His eyes and lips curved into a beautiful arc as he nodded. “I understand. Then save up and repay slowly. A lifetime is long—there will eventually be a time when it’s all repaid.”

He was always like this, never making people feel pressured, and consistently maintaining a relaxed attitude. But the less he minded, the more awkward she felt. With an apologetic tone, she softly said she was sorry. “I’m just useless—it seems I can’t survive without you…”

He was silent for a moment. “I’ve always regretted that I cannot hear voices. People seem incomplete to me.”

Ding Yi exclaimed softly, her heart feeling a dull pain. “Do you want to hear my voice?” She thought for a moment, then took two of his fingers and pressed them against her throat. “Look, when I speak, you can hear me this way, can’t you?”

The Twelfth Prince’s gaze was crystal clear, like what books describe as “clear light reflecting on a blue sea.” A subtle, lively gleam passed through, and a fine smile spread from the corners of his mouth to his eyes. Ding Yi thought that perhaps no one else in the world could have eyes more beautiful than his!